


If Anything Bites, Let It

by GettingMetaphysical



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Mind Meld, Mind Sex, Other, Psychic Bond, Psychic Controls, Romance, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Explicit Sex - Warning
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GettingMetaphysical/pseuds/GettingMetaphysical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The TARDIS does mind where her Doctor sticks his hands. He really shouldnt be so careless with the psychic controls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Anything Bites, Let It

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, remember those cool, sort of organic, psychic controls from Listen? I made porn of it. Enjoy!
> 
> * * *

  
The Twelfth Doctor sauntered about the TARDIS control room, along the balcony to pick out a book or two from the little shelf. His fingers danced atop many novels, and stopped at _The Time Traveler’s Wife_. The Time Lord trailed a finger down the well-read and worn book’s back, then plucked it out and flipped it open. While he read, he went down the staircases and to the controls without looking up once; he didn’t even flinch when his leg bumped into the TARDIS control panel, the one with the psychic sensors.

   Absentminded, the Doctor half-sat, half-leaned on it. His right hand wandered for a place to steady on, and stuck itself down the psychic control’s organic opening. Ah yes, that was firm enough.

   The control’s insides twitched.

   The Doctor, past a third of the book already, was now rather unfocused. All of a sudden his neck felt relaxed, and yet there was a stiffness below his chest. He read on, but the words blurred. 

   Out of nowhere, the Doctor groaned.

   Panting, he shook his head to clear his thoughts, slack-jawed and staring at the book. His eyes darted beside him, and he understood.

   ”What do think you’re doing, you sexy thing?” he murmured, trying to seem annoyed. He carefully put the book aside on a flat surface close to the center column and turned his full attention to the psychic controls. Well, to the ship itself. Obviously she minded where he put his hands this time.

   ”Old Girl?”

   Again, more violent, the psychic tissue pulled on his hand.

  ”Ahh-AGH!” the Time Lord yelled, overcome by the waves of pleasure from his hand, an erogenous zone he hadn’t made use of for some time.

   ”D-darling… I… oh!”

   The tissue kept chewing on his hand. A bit warmer than his skin, tough but soft in texture and slightly wet. It massaged his fingers and sent strange pulses upp his nerves. Pulses that he felt in every joint, that beat in time with his hearts, that ached heavy and slow in his groin. 

   ”Oh no, Old Girl please… I’m… I can’t keep steady, I… ah-hah, ohh no…”

   Why was he saying no? It only hurt a little, and he liked that. He really liked that. Before he could ask for it, whatever was biting him – her machinery or her consciousness or her something else – clamped down harder and another, electric sensation shot up his bones and straight down to his prostate, and he felt his facial muscles strain in a cry.

   ”Fine, fine old thing, just let me g… ah!” He tried to pull his hand free, but the controls hissed like a circuit overheating. They weren’t; it was the machine whining. 

   ”And I’m telling you, let me go for one second and I’ll put it back,” he said, gasping. 

   The tissue loosened with an apologetic beep from the panels, and he forced his shaking hands to undo his trousers and pull the clothes down. Everything bunched up above his knees, but hell if he cared. He sat back against the column, vaguely aware that his back would hurt later, and wrapped his left hand around his shaft. Both of them still shook in unbearably strong pleasure when his right hand went back inside his ship’s welcoming softness. 

   The tissue sucked onto his fingers and spread them apart. Flat tendrils massaged the flat and back of his hand. Something smooth and cold slithered between his fingers, tickling him. His moans mixed with some incredulous giggling. His other hand was still in a sort of shock, simply gripping his cock. Sweat broke out in his face while his body tensed, and he started stroking.

   It was barely needed. Soon his eyes rolled up, his back arched, and the humming and thrumming from the TARDIS engines became louder and faster, while the etheric choir of the TARDIS consciousness sang, sang, _sang_ inside his mind. With her pilot, with his ship, together, they melted into harmony, and the Time Lord felt as if his form had spread to fill every room, all dimensions of his ship.

   His right hand curled and uncurled his fingers, arm moving up and down inside the psychic controls, the other hand furiously beating him off as if to make up for lost time, and he came –

_For one millisecond, he was still made of golden and blue light. He was Harmony, Eye of Harmony, sweetly united with Her love, Their Love whispering like lips against skin, like Time flowing through Space._

   Somewhere, far away, his eyelids flew open and saw a thin, pearly white jet. At the same moment, she let him go, and he fell forward, fitted perfectly into his body –

  – and he came with a roar.

   A small squelching noise, and his hand was free. The Doctor cried out like a wounded animal, sliding off and collapsing on the floor. He was crying, he was just so overwhelmed. His whole body was sore, yet his hips pumped, making his breath hitch in aftershocks. He scooted in under her to curl around the foot of the column, trousers still down, hair sweaty, face scarlet, limbs shaking.

   It took a few minutes before he said anything.

   ”Old… hahh… Girl…”

   The engines hummed, uneven and kind.

   ”Why… did you have… to do me… so hard…?”

   Her answer was a gentle heat in his gut. 

   ”Ah… Of course. It’s been a while.”

   The Twelfth Doctor nuzzled the floor, a disheveled mess of a Time Lord.

   ”Sorry ’bout that, Sexy…”

* * *

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
This story archived at <http://www.whofic.com/viewstory.php?sid=56367>


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